


the forest lulls and wolves howl

by Ruriska



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, Hanzo Angst, Short One Shot, it's a very specific type of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriska/pseuds/Ruriska
Summary: In the forest the seasons turn and the wolves hunt; a man tries to escape his past but fate is a circle that repeats itself, over and over.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little oneshot I wrote a few weeks ago and wanted to do something with. I've always been curious about Hanzo's wolves and okami skin! I hope you enjoy it. <3
> 
> Where does this fit on the timeline? Up to you.

The forest lulls him into a false sense of security.

It does not bring him redemption but it gives him peace. For three years he allows his heart to be eased by the verdant mountain forest, the mighty pines and the towering oaks, the silence and the sound, the tumbling waterfalls and the babbling brooks, the musical calls of the birds and the haunting howls of the wolves. 

Beneath the trees, he hunts. His arrows take lives only for his own sake, to fill his belly and nothing more. There is no waste and he does not feel as though another burden has been added to his already weighted shoulders. 

The forest allows him to stay; it does not welcome, no creature is welcomed. Nor does it deny. It is nature, sometimes gentle and sometimes cruel. He is taught many a harsh lesson and he learns quickly. Now he knows better than to walk into the path of the black bear or to run along the riverbanks during flooding season.

His clothes become ragged, torn and frayed. He mends it with what little he has and is pleased with his efforts. Everything that he once took for granted, he now fights for. Each triumph equals in pride. It is the little things that make the difference; finding a blackberry bush full of ripe fruit, staying warm and dry during a thunderstorm, a bad cut that heals well.

It is sometimes hard but it is simple and clean and the ache that lives in his chest lessens. 

Sometimes he crosses paths with the wolves; the pack is wary of him at first but they soon learn that he is no threat. Neither is he to be preyed upon. That lesson they learn during one encounter, a quick burst of violence when one youngster tries its luck and he is forced to defend himself. His body covers the thrashing wolf, clamping jaws shut in a vice-like grip. The pack watches the struggle, cowers back from his snarl.

No life lost that day.

They reach a truce.

So it stays until one litter grows into young adults, the two weakest struggling to find their place. When he offers them a fresh caught rabbit, tossed to them without thought, they follow him. When he drives them away, they return with low bellies and pleading whines. When he runs his hand through their fur and they lean into his touch, he finds acceptance. 

They follow at his heels, two shadows that lope and grin with their tongues lolling out. Together they hunt, they eat, they sleep. He is not alone anymore and when this realization hits, they allow him to hold them both tight, to weep into their fur.

They grow powerful under his care; all unstoppable muscle and fearsome teeth. When they are together even the bear learns to be wary. 

With him they play; they roll in the leaves beneath the shedding oaks, tussle and bond, his laughter ringing out as it never has before, not even in childhood. 

The forest lulls him.

And he is not ready.

The attack is sudden, swift and fierce. Three assassins sent to kill him. How strange; a foolish first thought of seeing the shape of a man in the forest. He is not weak but some of his hardness has melted away. His brain is still wired to survive but he has somehow forgotten the flash of the blade and the roar of the gun. His instincts have changed. They are used to sensing changes in the wind and catches rustles in the underbrush. He is too slow and he knows it. He sees his death in their eyes.

The wolves, _his_ wolves, will not let it happen.

They are just as swift and just as fierce.

Their teeth sink deep and their eyes blaze.

But by the time he has picked up his bow, by the time he has finished what they started and his arrows have lodged deep into human flesh, his wolves are dying. They whimper on blood-soaked earth, look at him pleadingly, as if he can take away their pain. He can... but not the way he wants to. A gunshot in one; the bullet too deep. The belly torn open on the other; guts peeking out. 

He cries harder than he ever has... not even in childhood, not even _then_. Gut wrenching sobs that roll through his entire body, despair that lodges in his throat and makes every part of him ache. He remembers a similar pain and a sin he can never cleanse. He cries as he finishes the job, gives them a clean death in his arms. 

I always kill the ones I love, he thinks to himself.

It is a pattern. Always the same. One way or the other. The never-ending circle. 

He wants to follow them; before the scene repeats itself again, over and over.

But his wolves do not leave him in death.

Their spirits wind around him, fiercely protective and still eager to please. They sink into him, seeking a place to stay. He welcomes them, his body curled around their empty flesh.

At first the dragons balk at the intrusion; the conflict thrums through him like lightning. Then it is over, just as swiftly. The dragons relent and the wolves settle in.

He feels the weight of four souls in his chest.

You are not alone, they tell him, you are never alone. 

Four souls and none of them are his own.

His was torn to shreds the moment his blade touched his brother’s skin.

He leaves the forest and returns to a mad world, where death snaps at his heels. Let them come. He will not falter. Every day he will think of the forest but the wolves are with him and his enemies will hear their howl and tremble.

Hanzo has found peace but he has not yet found redemption.


End file.
